


Love Over Need

by loveandallthat



Series: Healing a Break [1]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Break Up, M/M, Reconciliation, endgame jack/parse or bust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-02
Updated: 2016-11-02
Packaged: 2018-08-28 13:45:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8448274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveandallthat/pseuds/loveandallthat
Summary: Because Jack is an addict, and some addicts relapse.Endgame Jack/Kent.  I cannot stress this enough.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So, something in me must have thought, "What's the fic that the fewest CP fans want?" And then I wrote this. Unbeta-ed, so please let me know any mistakes you find! I wrote it quickly to get it done before NaNoWriMo and I just want to post it and have it out there--but I'd be glad to correct any mistakes.

It had been going so well.

Well, obviously it hadn’t--that’s why he’s here.  Jack reaches his hand out, ignoring the pain in his arm, hoping to end up with some water.  No such luck; all he feels is an IV in his arm.  He breathes out harshly through his nose, trying to stay grounded.  His memories of being in a hospital under suicide watch are from six years ago, so being in this bed makes him feel young and dumb all over again.

Why can’t he just let himself enjoy a good thing?

Jack wishes he could use his phone, to see what people were saying to him, about him.  Of course he wants to check for messages from people he knows, but he might be tempted enough to look--surely word had gotten out and he’d be all over the internet?

Not that it matters, anymore.

Jack Zimmermann has finally managed to do what he didn’t a long time ago, and actually ruined his own life beyond repair.  

\---

To be honest, Jack was kind of proud of how far he’d come.  He knew that his old self would never have done this, driven in the middle of the night to show up and come out with his boyfriend, as it were.  Trusting a relatively significant group of people not just to know and understand and see inside their world, but also to be careful enough not to accidentally spread anything, and kind enough not to do it on purpose.  It’s why it was only their closest friends--eventually including the frogs, just for Bitty.  Jack knew, as someone who had been captain, that it could strengthen the divide between team members to have this kind of secret among only some of them.  But they could deal with that later; Jack felt more invincible than he ever had in his entire life.

He felt especially great in his apartment with Bitty, both lying on the couch and falling asleep to Jack’s most recent game, which he’d been studying.  He blinked himself awake enough to turn off the computer and put a hand on Bitty, telling him to get to the bedroom, though the process of moving woke them up a little.  

“I’m so glad we told people,” Bitty whispered into the minimal space between them.  They had both gotten pretty used to sleeping close early in their relationship.  It made it harder when they were apart, but amazing when they were together.

“Me too,” Jack agreed.

\---

Jack checks the time.  Without him even asking--since he couldn’t--the hospital had put him somewhere relatively private, with someone assigned to sit outside of his door.  He’s pretty sure that isn’t the normal protocol around here, but he hasn’t bothered to ask.  He hasn’t talked to anyone, really.  They probably expected him to complain or ask questions, or answer them, but he hasn’t so far.  Maybe the drugs are still in his system somehow; that would explain the numb acceptance he feels.  Or maybe something else is wrong.

Either way, now that he’s had time to think, he wonders what’s going to happen.  He’ll be here a few days, and at some point his parents were probably notified somehow, since they’re his emergency contacts.  Maybe they can keep it quiet beyond that group.  Jack thinks he probably wants that, even though he’s having trouble accessing the part of his brain that knows what he wants.

Maybe they told him everything already and he pretended to listen.

It’s still a little before visiting hours; even in the hospital, Jack is still an early riser.  It’s not like it does him much good, unless he was trying to memorize the schedule of how often they check on him, but he’s not trying to kill himself.  He wasn’t, even before.  His new anti-anxiety meds were harder to abuse than the ones he’d taken in the juniors, so when he was crawling out of his skin, he just took about as many as he had after the draft.  The thing was, back then he was abusing them like crazy, building up a tolerance.  With these new pills, he followed the directions flawlessly--until he didn’t.

When he puts his head back on the pillow, he falls back asleep pretty easily.

\---

Hausgiving was amazing, but of course it was; Bitty cooked.  Over the course of the dinner, Jack was able to pick up enough from the conversation to realize that Dex had helped a lot, which made Jack mostly grateful and really barely jealous, thinking back to assisting Bitty back at his apartment in Providence, and how fun and nice it was.

When he heard all the stories and misadventures that had happened before he even got there, he was disappointed to have not been there, but he’d left home as soon as he could and driven as fast as he was comfortable with.  He used to be kind of a reckless driver, sometimes, but he’d grown to be safe to the point of boring.  Jack knew it was better this way, that this was definitely considered maturity.  

Not that he needed any reminders that he was old, considering that he’d gone to college late and started in the NHL later.  He’d always felt a slight distance from the SMH team, even though it was simultaneously the most at home he’d ever felt.  It helped that Shitty was there, helped to see Ransom and Holster, people who at least weren’t that much younger than him.  The new frogs made Jack feel unsettled, unfairly angry with them for the fact that he and Bitty had to hide only because they were around.

He fell back in easily enough, even with the new frogs--Bits called them tadpoles, refusing to think of anyone but  _ his  _ frogs as “frogs,” but if Jack subscribed to that theory he’d be calling Ransom and Holster frogs, which actually might be funny, now that he thought about it.

Plus, everyone was always so shocked when he made jokes, even dumb ones.

He stayed quiet and took it in for a little while, before Ransom actually brought up the Providence game last week, and Jack was pretty glad to give his perspective, even about how it felt to be checked by probably the most enormous player on the other team.  It felt weird to have the new guys--and Chowder--looking at him all starry-eyed.  He wasn’t all that used to it; miraculously, he had mostly been able to play hockey and be occasionally interviewed or filmed with his teammates.  The fan interaction had been minimal.  

It was probably good that Bitty was in full on party hosting mode, because otherwise he might have been paying too much attention to Jack--or was Jack just projecting because he couldn’t take his eyes off of Bitty in his element?  Either way, the fact that they were rarely making eye contact, despite Jack’s staring, was probably keeping them safe from discovery by anyone who didn’t yet know.

Jack didn’t mind keeping the secret, being generally private.  And he knew that Bitty was happy now that the people closest to him--except his family--was able to know, as well.  And that part was his own decision, of course.  Jack had no intention of telling Bitty how to handle his own family, and trusting Bitty was, to an extent, trusting his family if Bitty wanted to tell them.  In fact, it kind of seemed like situations like these would be the only times it would be an issue: big parties that included people who knew about them and people who didn’t.

He tried not to think about all the Falconers events where he was allowed to bring a guest, and wouldn’t have one, or would have to bring a friend or family member.  He could make a bad joke and get good publicity by bringing his dad, or something, but that would really only work once.

“What was Jack like as a captain?” someone asked.  Bitty, Ransom and Holster all looked at each other conspiratorially, and Jack had to laugh.

“I didn’t start out great, but I like to think I got better,” Jack cut in, before they got a chance to speak.  He looked directly at Whiskey or maybe Tango and was rewarded with more general astonishment.

Bitty finally looked over him at that, and their eyes met for a teasing second.  Bitty knew, because Jack had explicitly told him, that he was a big part of the reason that Jack opened up so much in his senior year.

Then Chowder dropped food on Dex, who for some reason blamed Nursey (“Chill, Poindexter,” Nursey said) and the moment was lost, maybe for the best. 

\---

When a doctor comes back in, Jack is finally of the mindset to ask actual questions.  He manages to realize that they didn’t contact anyone--he had apparently called 911 himself when he realized he’d taken too much, which Jack frankly thinks shows that he’s doing much better than last time.  Clearly, this time, he wasn’t actually trying to die.  The doctor doesn’t seem to realize that this is progress.

It seems like a miracle that his parents weren’t informed; was this hospital so financially inclined that all they cared about was getting their money?  Was he just barely out cold when they brought him in?

Presumably something like that.

At some point, he’ll have to tell his parents, though.  And he probably couldn’t get away with keeping it from his coaches, who would definitely have tough decisions to make.  Or maybe they wouldn’t; this could play as an accident, except for his history.

Actually, everyone thinks he’s a cokehead, so maybe it still can.

He’s thinking about this way too much to actually listen to what the doctor is saying, but manages to tune back in for, “You’ll be fine, but you have to stay here for three days.”  Jack doesn’t want to argue, because making any kind of scene feels really dangerous when so far he has his privacy.

The doctor squints at him, like it’s weird that he’s cooperating.  Considering he’s under suicide watch, that kind of makes sense.

Finally, he gets fed up and turns to the doctor.  It’s probably a bad idea to give anything away and just blindly trust doctor-patient confidentiality, but it  _ is  _ kind of the point.  “I didn’t want to die, I just wanted to calm down,” he explains.  “It’s possible I tried too hard.”

This doctor, apparently, doesn’t appreciate his sense of humor.  Jack isn’t particularly insulted.

But then, conceding the obvious knowledge of who Jack is, the doctor doesn’t leave without saying, “Let’s not try for a hat trick, hm?”

\---

Bitty made him go to dinner with Chowder, and Dex and Nursey tagged along.  It made sense that Bitty wanted Chowder to feel more comfortable around Jack, in a weird, Bitty sort of way.

Well,  _ made  _ is a strong word.  Bitty asked him to, and Jack couldn’t really say no.  He had been planning to buy the whole dinner, and it was a decent restaurant.  Not that he wasn’t still going to pay.

The five of them didn’t fit especially well in Jack’s car, not because it was a small car but because Dex and Nursey were rather not small.  Because of this, Bitty was nice enough to sit in the middle in the back--meaning that instead of looking sideways to see Bitty usually smiling back at him, it was to see Dex kind of glaring out the window.

It had been a while since Jack had seen Bitty, which wa why even though he had possible team publicity events this weekend as well, the lack of anything required meant that he finally had an opportunity, and he didn’t want it to be months between their visits.

Dex looked notably uncomfortable when Jack handed his car keys over to a valet, and Chowder looked like he was about to burst from excitement.  Jack shook the valet’s hand with a ten in his palm, as Nursey turned Chowder and Dex away from the scene, since Bitty was still getting out of the car.

Jack didn’t like to throw his money around; this was just supposed to be a treat for Chowder, not a spectacle.  When they got to the table, he whispered, “This is obviously on me.  Don’t look at the prices.”

Of course you can’t say that to guys in college, because that’s exactly what they did, except that Nursey somehow managed to get Dex’s menu and was reading it to him--Jack would have guessed that was much more insulting to Dex than him actually knowing the costs, but somehow nobody seemed mad yet.

Bitty had made Chowder sit by Jack, as part of the whole bonding thing, and Jack really did like him; it’s not like he gave him dibs just for Bitty.  Chowder looked up to Jack so much, but when Jack really thought about it, he was amazed by Chowder’s skills.  People made fun of him for only talking about hockey all the time, but he was willing to take the chirping for a chance to ask Chowder for his perspective, how he felt when he played.

As expected, Bitty laughed at him, but he also looked pleased and subtly rested his hand on Jack’s leg.  Jack noticed Dex noticing this and just put his hand on top of Bitty’s, obviously and challengingly.  Dex looked away, fidgeting with his silverware.  Nursey nudged him lightly and said, “Chill.”  Unsurprisingly.

They didn’t really fit very well together on the surface, but Jack still had a good time, somehow.  He knew there may be repercussions for him not having joined the rest of the Falconers at their charity event, but with the look in Bitty’s eyes as the closed the door to his room at the end of the night, everything was worth it.

\---

The doctor is back.  Jack notices, in an off-handed, uninterested way, that he’s kind of hot.  Maybe he’s homophobic; that would be fun.

“You’re kind of hot,” Jack tries.

“I know,” the doctor says.  Jack’s about to tell him that he might even be more vain than some people he knows, when the doctor continues with, “You told me that when you first woke up.  I take it you don’t remember?"

Jack doesn’t.

“I’m glad you told me that, because it confirms that you don’t remember.”  Jack really didn’t mean to give that away; it was a different secret than the one he had expected to be giving up.

That’s about Jack’s tipping point.  He doesn’t really have anything else to use to make this more interesting.  “I can still go home tomorrow, right?”

“Of course,” he agrees readily.  “But I really have to advise you to consider some . . . outpatient services.”

Jack sighs, but he’s feeling more cooperative than usual, still in a place where he really does want to get better, stop shitting on his own life.

“That’s probably smart,” he allows.

The doc looks at him piercingly.  Jack is used to feeling scrutinized, by media, fans, coaches, new teammates, opponents . . . but this is different, more personal.  Like his parents but worse, because this man knows that Jack’s not doing well again; in fact, he’s among the few who do.

Well, Bitty and the in-the-know SMH members might have a vague idea.

“That’s smart, or it’s something you’re actually going to do?” Hot Doctor asks.  Jack really needs to learn his name; he cranes his neck to find a badge.

“Both, hopefully,” Jack answered.  Maybe he shouldn’t imply that he has no control over his life, but that doesn’t seem entirely inaccurate at the moment.

“I can help you with that,” Dr. Apparently-Steven-Ross promises.

\---

Bitty went home for Christmas, like Jack knew he would.  He tried to get him to Providence for New Year’s Eve, though he was also kind of supposed to go to an event.

But if he could have managed to have Bitty there, it wouldn’t have mattered.

Jack got to see his family, too; though they decided they wanted to come to Providence.  It felt like Jack’s apartment was screaming, “Bitty was here!” but his parents already knew, anyway.  They also brought all the food, though Jack was getting to be pretty good at cooking, where he used to just be decent, able to make food to fit his macros without any fuss.  It was probably best not to demonstrate that new skill anyway.

Actually, it might have been more accurate to say that his apartment was crying, “Bitty hasn’t been here in a while!” because while his decorating tastes were all over the place, there was a notable lack of baked goods throughout.

It didn’t mean that the holidays weren’t nice, because Jack really was glad to see his parents again.  His dad still had a way of making him feel a little inadequate, but the way that Jack had paved his own way had managed to lessen the effects, and his mom always made him feel better.  It was fine, really.  The food was great and the holidays were a time for family, he reminded himself.  It didn’t help; Bitty definitely felt like his family, like he should be there too.

Bitty texted him that night, late enough that his parents were asleep in the guest room.  The message said that Bitty had lain the groundwork to convince his parents that he had to fly back to Samwell early, before the new year, but that he would have to go through the Boston airport to keep up the ruse.  Jack was willing to pick him up, of course; playing games like this wasn’t fun for him, but he definitely entered into it willingly.

Jack texted back, you don’t have to, and crossed his fingers that Bitty would want to.  He breathed out a sigh of relief when he got the text back.  He was antsy for the next few days until his parents left, ready for Bitty on the 30th, and four glorious days with him.

The flight was delayed, because of course it was, but not by too much; Jack stopped to pick up food to pass the time, and considered parking the car and going inside--but he didn’t want the attention.  Even Bitty was sometimes recognized in public for his vlog, so he knew it was bad for them to be seen together too often.

It was safer this way, waiting with the other cars and hiding behind his tinted windows.  Paranoid, he didn’t kiss him when he got in the car, but he grabbed his hand across the seat.

“I am so glad you’re here,” Jack breathed into Bitty’s mouth the instant that he had closed Jack’s door behind them.  He felt Bitty’s smile, and he was suddenly calmer; he pulled back for a second to bask in it before things started to heat up again.

It wasn’t even New Year’s Eve yet, and Jack hadn’t decorated--but he could swear everything was gold.

\---

It’s the last hour before Jack gets to--or has to--leave the hospital.  He doesn’t know if he can really face the world, as much as he also thinks that he wants to be anywhere but here.  He lies on the bed, dozing occasionally for lack of anything else to do, unable to get himself fully under.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were doing this all for the attention,” a familiar voice says.

“I’m definitely dreaming,” Jack thinks aloud.  “What the fuck, Parse; how the hell did you know I was here?”

“Don’t worry; nobody else knows.  I have connections at this hospital.”

That isn’t what Jack was worried about, even though maybe it should have been.  “That’s definitely against some kind of policy.”

Kent sits down at the foot of the bed, bringing his ass by Jack’s foot and matching up their knees.  “Are you going to complain?”

Jack kicks him, of course; it’s what Kent expects.  “I’m good at complaining,” he offers.

“Don’t I know it.”  Kent shakes his head.  “I’m not actually here to bust your balls.”

Jack frowns; he didn’t think people said that anymore.  In reality, it’s a relief because, obviously that’s what he had been expecting.  “You’re doing a good job of not telling me why you actually are here.”

“Thanks, I try,”  Kent drops a hand on Jack’s ankle, and Jack manages not to flinch.  “This is what you get for OD-ing in Vegas.  It’s possible that I was, um, friends with your doctor, and he listened to me complain about you, and risked a hell of a lot by calling me instead of your parents, your actual emergency contacts.  Maybe.”  He’s staring at his hand on Jack’s leg, fingers tapping without any rhythm.

It’s obviously not Jack’s fault, but he’s reminded of guilt that he hasn’t felt for a really long time.  It takes him back, but he finally feels a healthy distance from it.  He keeps consciously still to keep the hand on him, letting it ground him.

“So nobody else knows?”

Kent shakes his head.  “Just me.  And I know you don’t want to hear this from me, but you probably don’t want to just slip quietly back into the same life that led you to this point.”  He tightens his grip on Jack, like he can keep him here, but it’s the look he levels that freezes Jack in place.

Jack already knows this, and not just because Kent’s “friend” Dr. Ross had told him that, too.  “I don’t know what I can do differently,” he admits.  The NHL has always been his dream; giving it up won’t help anything.

“Go on a trip with your boyfriend?” Kent suggests.  Jack’s kind of offended that Kent thinks this is a problem solvable with a vacation, and that Jack just didn’t think of it.  Then again, he just admitted that he doesn’t know what to do.

Besides.  “We broke up.”

“Shit, sorry,” Kent apologizes, like he means it.

“It’s fine; I broke up with him.”

Kent gives him a  _ what the fuck is wrong with you  _ look, and Jack remembers that Kent has actually met Bitty, and maybe knew in the short time that he saw him, that Bitty was amazing.  Is amazing.

He decides to head off any questions of why by just divulging.  “I couldn’t get our lives to match up no matter how hard I tried.  We were sacrificing too much.”

Kent stands suddenly, walks to the other end of the bed, and gets in next to Jack.  Undeniably they look ridiculous, fully clothed, sitting next to each other under a sheet in a tiny hospital bed, just talking.  “Wasn’t it worth it?” Kent asks.

Jack can speak more softly now that they’re so close, and it makes him more comfortable.  Kent probably knew that about him, and that’s why he moved.  “I really, really thought that it was going to be,” Jack practically whispers.  “Sometimes it was so good, really amazing.  But no.  It was too hard, and I couldn’t do it.”

“You picked hockey,” Kent realizes.

“I picked Bitty focusing on college and me focusing on hockey.”

Kent looks incredibly unconvinced.  “If it was worth it, you would have kept it.”

“That’s clearly untrue given my history,” Jack argues.  It’s a good thing Kent didn’t say he was there to make Jack feel better, because he definitely isn’t doing that.  “That’s not why I broke up with him, and that’s not why I stopped talking to you.”

Shit, Jack hadn’t planned to go here.  Kent’s eyes are wide and he’s leaned back a little, like he definitely didn’t expect that either.  His face is redder than Jack has ever seen it.

“Great, you push people away because you’re afraid of your own feelings?  That’s some rom-com bullshit, Jack.”

Fighting with someone from this close is weird.  Actually, arguing with someone in general is weird for Jack lately; at Samwell he was the captain and nobody really challenged him except Bitty, and they didn’t disagree for long.

He bristles.  “Look, what the fuck does it matter to you, anyway?  It’s been  _ years _ .”

“Oh, fuck you,” Kent spits.  “You may run away from anything serious, but as you well know, I fu--I fucking cling to it as long as I can.  Look at where I am and who I’m with.  I’m at least ten times the dumbass that you are.  I’ll go tell Steve to release you.  Try not to die.”

\---

Jack, in a way he had never done before, put everything he had into Valentine’s Day for himself and Bitty.  It should have been impossible, considering that Jack was in Chicago, but he didn’t want to miss out on everything, so he bought plane tickets, for early that morning and late that night.  Bitty had maintained that it was worth it; Jack had checked several times because he knew how inconvenient it could be.

It wasn’t a long flight, so he woke up early and began to clean his hotel room for Bitty’s arrival, thinking there should definitely be food ready when he gets there, and even going a little stereotypically romantic, candles and flowers and chocolates.  Outside of his usual comfort zone, but a nice change from boring and ordinary.  The change of scenery could be nice in theory, but it’s not like it was any less snowy.

He checked his phone again, nothing.  He should have looked up the flight on his computer, but it hadn’t been working lately and he’d been too busy with the Falconers and Bitty, who’d taught him how to use his phone to Skype.  Bitty’s phone kept going straight to voicemail and Jack didn’t know who to call and ask about looking up flights on his phone, and it would be way too obvious, anyway.  Could he call them?  Was that still a thing people did, talking to airlines on the phone?

Jack finally got antsy waiting for the text and went and drove to the airport and waited; he took a taxi and sat around at the coffee shop by baggage claim.  He had considered renting a car and driving himself, but it was probably best that he hadn’t.  The airport was bigger and more confusing than it had felt earlier when he was with the rest of the team.

He took out his phone.  Every time he was about to text Shitty or Lardo or the group chat, he remembered it was Valentine's Day.  People in the group chat would probably be hanging around, but they knew about him and Bitty, and would think it was weird that Jack was bored and messaging them.  He looked around for a way to check flight statuses, figuring it was pretty likely.

Bitty called him three hours later.  

“My phone was dead and they delayed the flight for fifteen minutes every ten minutes for three hours,” he explained tiredly to Jack.  Jack couldn’t really figure out what he’d said.

“You’re still in Boston?” he asked, after a moment of thinking.

Bitty was remarkably patient with Jack’s inability to understand.  “I’m back at the Haus.  I left my charger and nobody would let me borrow theirs--I asked.”

Of course Bitty had asked, Jack thought, but he couldn’t imagine anyone turning him down.

“I waited at the airport for hours,” Jack complained, not trying to aim it at Bitty, just in general.

“I’m sorry, sweetie--I should have kept my phone charged or remembered my charger.”  Bitty did sound truly apologetic, which made Jack’s heart clench.

“No, wait, it’s my fault  I should have checked the flight,” Jack rushed in to interrupt.  “Please don’t blame yourself.”

“Thanks, Jack,” Bitty said, his voice sounding unsteady, and everything hit Jack like a ton of bricks.

“We can’t do this anymore,” he mutters under his breath.

“Jack?” Bitty asked.  Jack bit his lip.

They stayed on the line for at least a minute before Jack was able to speak again.

“This is going to keep happening,” he breathed.

“Jack, I don’t like this,” Bitty started.

“I’m sorry to do this over the phone--I never planned on doing this at all,” Jack promised.  His voice was hoarse enough that even he could hear it.

“Please don’t do this,” Bitty begged.

“I know it’s Valentine’s Day, and I love you so much, and that’s why I can’t keep doing this to you.”

“Jack-” Bitty repeated.

“And I can’t keep doing this either,” he whispered.  He didn’t want to say it; he tried not to say it.

“OK,” Bitty agreed, doing what Jack had known he would do, and thinking of Jack before himself.  Mentioning his own displeasure was enough.  “I hate this, and I love you, but OK.  If that’s what you want.”

“Of course it isn’t,” Jack insisted.  “I want to see you every day and play hockey and tell everyone about you, but we can’t do this and neither one of us can sacrifice anything else.  Especially you.”

“Jack, you know I haven’t missed anything I wasn’t willing to miss,” Bitty reassured him.  Jack knew that already; that was the problem.

“We’re both missing things,” he stressed.

Bitty sighed.  “Please come visit soon anyway.  I’ll . . . I’ll explain it to everyone.”  He was very obviously crying, but so was Jack.  He hoped that Bitty could tell he wasn’t the only one feeling like shit.

“Tell someone right now,” Jack ordered.  “Make them hang out with you.”

“I can’t,” Bitty sniffed.  “I think they all have dates.”

Jack wracked his brain, thinking back to the Valentine’s day plans in the group text.  “Holster?” he suggested, even though this was the last thing he wanted to be thinking or talking about.

“Oh, maybe,” Bitty agreed softly.  He didn’t make any promises to actually do anything about it.

“I’ll call him,” Jack offered.  It was the least he could do; he was the shitty person in this situation.  “I love you,” he repeated, as Bitty hung up.

He turned his phone over in his hand a few times.  Then he figured that this was a situation in which a timely response was best.  Jack clenched his hands tightly; this was going to be incredibly awkward and completely his own fault. 

Jack called Holster.  He picked up right away.

“Hey, Jack, since it’s Valentine’s Day and Bitty’s been gone all day, I’m going to assume you accidentally butt-dialed me and instead of hanging up like I usually do, I’ll just tell you about my day.”

Jack breathed in shakily, a little loudly.

Holster stopped in his tracks.  “Um, Jack, holy shit, are you crying?”

Jack ran his hand under his eye and checked; it came away wet.  “A little.  Did you not hear Bitty get home?”

“Oh, I’m not at the Haus.  I’m . . . on a walk.”

“I don’t need to know who you were stalking,” Jack interrupted.  “I just wanted someone to go sit with Bitty.”

Holster stopped for a moment.  “Did you guys-”

“Break up?  Yeah, just now,” Jack confirmed, still kind of choked up.

“What the--why--it doesn’t matter.  I’m literally going to run back to the Haus.  I’ll call you tomorrow.”

Jack meant to agree to this, but Holster had already hung up.

Bitty had a lot of people around; he’d be fine.  Jack still had his team, and being alone right now was another part of his own punishment.

\---

Jack pounds on Kent’s door; he can’t believe he managed to find Kent’s address without actually asking for it--actually, without ever having asked for it in the past, either.  Hopefully Jack would have heard if he’d moved.

Kent answers the door in sweatpants and no shirt, and Jack checks the time and winces.  Oops.

“Zimms, what the--?”

“You’re right. It’s about needing people too much and I’m scared I’ll need someone and they’ll leave.  I just don’t want to be left behind again.”

“For fuck’s sake, I didn’t leave you behind by being drafted first,” Kent groans.  “Shit, sorry.  I’m obviously an ass; so are you.  Come in here, asshole.”

Jack sees no reason not to obey.

He drops down onto a couch and tries not to look too obviously around Kent’s place.  It’s not that hard, since it’s apparently the middle of the night and therefore pretty dark.  Jack had taken a taxi back to his hotel, which had still been charging his card while he wasn’t there--that was fine, but they thought they were punishing Jack for not checking out when he should have, and when he didn’t seem sufficiently chagrined, they asked him to leave.  He probably should have gone to the airport, but also could have gotten another hotel room.  Instead he sat in a Starbucks for longer than he meant, went for a walk as the sky went black, and took another taxi to Kent’s.

Kent gets him a glass of water, and Jack drinks it to realize that he’s thirstier than he thought he was.  He finishes it and hands it back and instead of putting it down, Kent refills it.

“You weren’t drinking, were you?” he asks softly.

“No,” Jack confirmed.  “Just walking.”

“That probably wasn’t good after being in the hospital,” Kent pointed out, conversationally.

“I got kicked out of my hotel.”

Kent sits down next to Jack, the same side he was on earlier while they were fighting.  Jack has to try to resist the urge to ask him to move to the other side.

“Of course you did.  Zimms, you’re a smart, fancy college graduate, so I shouldn’t have to point this out, but you broke my heart over six years ago, and I still protected you from your parents and the media, and let you into my place.  So maybe if you’re looking for some poor sucker who won’t leave you, you’re looking in the wrong place.”

Jack knows that, but it’s not the only problem.  “I hurt people by needing them.”

Kent rolls his eyes and lies down on the couch with his legs on Jack’s lap.  Jack’s just glad that he’s only in contact with the clothed parts of Kent.  “Um, I think I can take it.”

“You shouldn’t have to!”

“Zimms,” Kent whines tiredly, head thrown back.  “It will always be worth it, OK.  You understand me better than I’ve ever been and you push back when I’m at my worst and you demand better from me.  In return, I try to  _ get _ you and never quite can, and I put up with all your shit.  That’s how it’s always worked, and I swear it’s even.”

“I pushed you away for years,” Jack argues weakly.

“I became the captain of a multiple Stanley Cup winning NHL team.  I’m good.”

“No kidding,” Jack snorts.  

“Were you really that unhappy when we were together?” Kent asks softly.  It’s much worse than when they’re yelling at each other.

“Yes,” Jack admits, going for honesty.  “But it wasn’t your fault.”

Jack feels it when Kent shifts and starts moving his legs, and Jack finds himself resting his arms on them to keep Kent in place.  

“But it’s not like I made anything better,” Kent insists, no longer trying to leave.

There was really no way to prove or disprove that; Jack doesn’t know what he would have been like back then without Kent.  Maybe better, maybe worse.  “I don’t know about that.”

Kent smiles, gets up and walks towards the door at the end of the hall.  “My guest bed isn’t made up, but it’s up to you: couch or my bed,” he called over his shoulder.

Jack only waits a minute before following.

\---

He didn’t see Bitty in person until Ransom, Holster, and Lardo’s graduation, contrary to his promise.  At that point he was starting to have more free time, and he was able to use that as an excuse for why he hadn’t shown up until then.

Jack walked into the Haus while everyone was getting ready.  He was pretty unnerved when the first thing that happened was Holster pretty literally tackling him onto the front lawn, throwing his arms around him.

“Nice to see you too?” Jack hedged.

“Sorry.  It  _ is _ nice to see you--thanks for coming.  I just wanted to see you before you talked to Bitty.”

Shit.  “Why?”

“Just a suggestion, maybe you should act normal, don’t bring anything up or try to apologize?”  Holster got off of Jack but stayed seated on the grass; at least he wasn’t serious enough that he was standing up to try to intimidate with his height.  Actually, he was looking away and fidgeting, clearly more uncomfortable.

It was still unsettling, in that Jack had sort of been planning that exact thing.  “Are you sure?”

Holster looks him in the eye.  “Yeah, he feels OK about it, but he’s not going to feel better if people bring it up.  It’s bad enough . . .”

“It’s bad enough that I’m here?” Jack finished, when Holster stopped and trailed off.

“I didn’t mean that,” Holster backtracked.  “It’s great that you’re here.  I’m really happy that you’re here.”

Holster stood up and pulled Jack to his feet as well, then pulled him into a real hug; almost immediately Ransom burst out of the house and plastered himself to the side of them; Jack laughed and was generally impressed with his timing.

Bitty came out and joined the group hug instead of giving Jack his own, and Jack had to admit that was fair.  Lardo followed him and Chowder dragged over Dex and Nursey, and they were an obnoxiously large hug in their front lawn with Jack in the middle and a huge variety of states of dress.  One of the lax bros gave them a strange look just as Shitty got out of a car down the street and complained that everyone was hugging without him.

Sadly, a bunch of people asked Jack for autographs while he was at the ceremony sitting next to Shitty and Bitty, who were both crying, not that Jack wasn’t feeling pretty emotional as well, even just in general.  Shitty suddenly reached into his pocket, would have been invading his personal space if that was a thing that existed between them anymore.  He pulled out a handkerchief.

“You’re such an old man,” he whispered to Jack, blowing his nose.

“Definitely keep that,” Jack ordered, smiling.

They had been ordered before the ceremony to save all cheering for the end, to keep the process running smoothly.  Jack joined in with the rest of the team in hollering for all of their graduates.

He came with for the awkward lingering, too, feeling eyes on him of people too afraid to approach--he hoped they stayed that way.  Ransom, Holster, and Lardo came to meet the team while their families waited. Holster hugged Bitty hard enough to lift him off the ground while Lardo squeezed Shitty enough to crack his back; then they switched and Bitty was clinging to Lardo and crying, and her eyes were wet as well.

Jack kind of just wanted to offer firm handshakes on his way out, but he stayed and mostly listened and sometimes talked when necessary.  He had been back to Samwell so many times in the past year, but this felt different; probably because of Bitty, or a memory of his own graduation.  He felt uneasy, like his stomach was turning, and he needed to get out of there, so he did.

Bitty stopped him on the way out, of course.

“They’re really happy you came,” Bitty assured him.  “Even Holster.”

“Thanks,” Jack replied, wondering if Bitty had watched or even heard their earlier exchange.  It made his skin crawl, again, made him want to leave more than ever.  So he did, thinking, of course it was Bitty who was the one to see him off.

\---

The staff behind the Falconers aren’t pleased with Jack absence, probably due to the two missed end of season events, as well as the lack of warning.

It didn’t necessarily help that he hid in Kent’s apartment for a week.

He’s finally leaving to talk to everyone in person, to tell them that he had an accidental overdose and had been hospitalized.  They know his history and they will be suspicious; Jack will probably have to change up his meds and go to therapy more often, but that’s fine.  The worst part will be talking about it with the people who took a chance on him, only to be forced to deal with this disappointment.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come with?” Kent asks, breaking the silence, interrupting Jack’s staring at his already packed bags.

Jack breathes in and out slowly.  “Thanks, but you’ve done enough.  More than.  I just want to face this.  But, I’ll call you later?”

Kent pulls him into a hug that lasts too long; Jack starts losing his will to leave.

“I could still go,” Kent whispers, apparently feeling the same.

Jack imagines the two of them, on a plane from Vegas to Providence.  It’s pretty unambiguous.  “I’ll be fine.  Besides, we’re exponentially more recognizable together.”

Kent looks at the expression on Jack’s face.  “Don’t worry.  It’ll be fine.”

“If they kick me off the team?” Jack jokes.

“The Aces will still take you.”

Jack scoffs.  “That’s a terrible idea.”

“For the team, or for you?”

“Both.  And for you.”

Kent’s expression is stony, serious.  He leans in and kisses Jack, lightly, on the corner of his mouth.

Then he pushes him out the door.

A long flight is the last thing Jack needs right now, even in first class, on a ticket insistently purchased by Kent so that Jack didn’t have to go on the internet.  He had turned his phone on in the airport and is reading all the texts from people who were worried about him, listening to voicemails from his parents.  Nobody was trying to solve a mystery, per se; the Falconers had only said that Jack was out of commission.  But of course people who actually knew Jack hadn’t heard anything about this, so they had all asked him.  Besides the group chat, almost every current or former SMH team member had individually texted Jack, as though they were worried he might want to talk one-on-one.

Jack texts the group chat that he was just sick, sorry, and texts Shitty the truth, just in time to turn his phone off at the announcement.

He’s been sleeping so much that there’s no way he falls asleep on the plane, but it’s fine and he gets plenty of time to sleep.

They don’t kick him off the team, of course; they don’t even seem to really suspect him of a problem that can’t be solved with some simple intervention.  Jack feels like he deserved something worse, but it’s the postseason, and all he missed were glorified meetings.

Other than that, they talk down to him, call him “son” and act concerned and sympathetic.  That’s pretty bad, too.

He gets back to his apartment and Kent is leaning against a door next to a suitcase, and Jack isn’t really surprised.

\---

Jack got tickets to a Stanley Cup Finals game a little while after Ransom and Holster’s graduation.  They were actually given to his dad, who said he didn’t think that Jack would want to go but he couldn’t give them away without offering them to Jack first.  Jack surprised both of them by taking them.  He considered inviting Bitty, just for the sake of showing him something amazing, but Holster’s warning stuck with him, and he couldn’t think of anyone else he wants to go with all the way to Vegas.  He went alone and wasted a ticket.

He watched the Aces win the fifth and final game.

He was seen there, noted as one of the celebrities in attendance even though he hadn’t alerted anyone that he would be there.  His seats were recognized as Bad Bob’s, and everyone noticed the empty seat to one side of him.  The view was amazing.

Jack saw Kent score a last-minute, game-winning goal incredibly clearly.

After, when Kent should have been celebrating, Jack got a text from him asking why he’d been there, and why he hadn’t told Kent he would be.  Jack ignored it and wrung his hands.  He left his phone in the bathroom while he paced in front of the bed in his hotel room.  He took out his pills and shook them--there had been no reason to bring this many, even if he were worried he’d be stopped by airport security, he could have brought the original container with only a few of them in it.  By why would he think that he would have a problem with it after all these years?

He swallowed a lot of them.  He felt fine until he didn’t anymore, and he reached for his phone and then--woke up in the hospital.

\---

Jack tries not to smile.  “I told you that you didn’t have to come.”

“I didn’t go to your meeting,” Kent points out, accepting Jack’s hand so that he can stand up and get out of the way of the door.  They’re both free for the summer, and it occurs to Jack that there’s no concrete end to this situation--they could fly back and forth from Vegas, Providence, New York, and Montreal if they wanted to.  Their dumb, perfect freedom from when they were younger, combined with more money and notoriety.

There’s no reason to be imagining this just from a visit.  Jack doesn’t know what’s wrong with him.

“You can’t OD every time something good happens to me,” Kent says, without preamble.

“Wow, OK, no foreplay,” Jack comments.  

Kent ignores him.  “If we’re going to do this, that has to be different.  You think you’re bad for me, but clearly I’m a catalyst for the shit you’ve got going on.”

Jack thinks about playing dumb about what exactly they’re discussing, but ultimately decides it’d be useless.  “And you still think this is worth it?”

“Of course I do; obviously I do!” Kent exclaims, and yeah, maybe that should have been clear from the context.  “We can still be good for each other by being the only people who can put up with each other.”

“That’s not good enough,” Jack insists.  Then, at Kent’s expression, he adds, “I mean, that’s not why.  You’re right; we work, and we match.  There  _ is  _ a reason that I’m extra sensitive to things that have to do with you, but it’s because of everything we did together and that means something.  But we have to stop hurting each other.”

“Because you can need me and I can take it?” Kent asks.

“Because I  _ want  _ you and you want this, too. Because we could have been good and I fucked it up and you’re dumb enough to try again.”

Kent’s grinning, and Jack has never gotten over being weak to that.  “Things will go back to normal-crazy after this summer.”

Jack can see the parallels, the same setup that ruined them in the juniors.

“We’re different now,” he argues.

“Yeah,” Kent agrees, looking at Jack like he’s never seen him before.  “I see that.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is actually the most subtle thing I've ever written, in that there is a decent percentage of the story that's implied (compared to my usual.) This includes one of my favorite things that came about (seemingly) organically as I wrote it.
> 
> Please comment anything! Especially criticism; go nuts. I'd love to hear from you.
> 
> Find me on tumblr as [loveandallthat](http://loveandallthat.tumblr.com/)! I take prompts for tons of fandoms and pairings.


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